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Fourth Day
-
Introduction

[Voice:
author
]

[
002
]
Dearest ladies, as well from what I heard in converse with the
wise, as from matters that not seldom fell within my own observation
and reading, I formed the opinion that the vehement and
scorching blast of envy was apt to vent itself only upon lofty towers
or the highest tree-tops: but therein I find that I misjudged; [
003
]
for,
whereas I ever sought and studied how best to elude the buffetings
of that furious hurricane, and to that end kept a course not merely
on the plain, but, by preference, in the depth of the valley; as
should be abundantly clear to whoso looks at these little stories,
written as they are not only in the vulgar Florentine, and in prose,
and without dedicatory flourish, but also in as homely and simple a
style as may be; [
004
]
nevertheless all this has not stood me in such stead
but that I have been shrewdly shaken, nay, all but uprooted by the
blast, and altogether lacerated by the bite of this same envy.
Whereby I may very well understand that 'tis true, what the sages
aver, that only misery is exempt from envy in the present life.
[
005
]
Know then, discreet my ladies, that some there are, who, reading
these little stories, have alleged that I am too fond of you, and that
'tis not a seemly thing that I should take so much pleasure in
ministering to your gratification and solace; and some have found
more fault with me for praising you as I do. [
006
]
Others, affecting to
deliver a more considered judgment, have said that it ill befits my
time of life to ensue such matters, to wit, the discoursing of women,
or endeavouring to pleasure them. And not a few, feigning a mighty
tender regard to my fame, aver that I should do more wisely to keep
ever with the Muses on Parnassus, than to forgather with you in such
vain dalliance. [
007
]
Those again there are, who, evincing less wisdom
than despite, have told me that I should shew sounder sense if I
bethought me how to get my daily bread, than, going after these idle
toys, to nourish myself upon the wind; while certain others, in
disparagement of my work, strive might and main to make it appear
that the matters which I relate fell out otherwise than as I set them
forth. [
008
]
Such then, noble ladies, are the blasts, such the sharp and
cruel fangs, by which, while I champion your cause, I am assailed,
harassed and well-nigh pierced through and through. [
009
]
Which
censures I hear and mark, God knows, with equal mind: and,
though to you belongs all my defence, yet I mean not to be niggard
of my own powers, but rather, without dealing out to them the
castigation they deserve, to give them such slight answer as may
secure my ears some respite of their clamour; and that without
delay; [
010
]
seeing that, if already, though I have not completed the
third part of my work, they are not a few and very presumptuous, I
deem it possible, that before I have reached the end, should they
receive no check, they may have grown so numerous, that 'twould
scarce tax their powers to sink me; and that your forces, great though
they be, would not suffice to withstand them. [
011
]
However I am
minded to answer none of them, until I have related in my behoof,
not indeed an entire story, for I would not seem to foist my stories in
among those of so honourable a company as that with which I have
made you acquainted, but a part of one, that its very incompleteness
may shew that it is not one of them: wherefore, addressing my
assailants, I say: [
012
]
That in our city there was in old time a citizen
named Filippo Balducci, a man of quite low origin, but of good
substance and well versed and expert in matters belonging to his
condition, who had a wife that he most dearly loved, as did she him,
so that their life passed in peace and concord, nor there was aught
they studied so much as how to please each other perfectly. [
013
]
Now it
came to pass, as it does to every one, that the good lady departed this
life, leaving Filippo nought of hers but an only son, that she had had
by him, and who was then about two years old. [
014
]
His wife's death left
Filippo as disconsolate as ever was any man for the loss of a loved
one: and sorely missing the companionship that was most dear to
him, he resolved to have done with the world, and devote himself
and his little son to the service of God. [
015
]
Wherefore, having dedicated
all his goods to charitable uses, he forthwith betook him to the summit
of Monte Asinaio, where he installed himself with his son in a little
cell, and living on alms, passed his days in fasting and prayer, being
careful above all things to say nothing to the boy of any temporal
matters, nor to let him see aught of the kind, lest they should
distract his mind from his religious exercises, but discoursing with
him continually of the glory of the life eternal and of God and the
saints, and teaching him nought else but holy orisons: in which way
of life he kept him not a few years, never suffering him to quit the
cell or see aught but himself. [
016
]
From time to time the worthy man
would go Florence, where divers of the faithful would afford him
relief according to his needs, and so he would return to his cell.
[
017
]
And thus it fell out that one day Filippo, now an aged man, being
asked by the boy, who was about eighteen years old, whither he went,
told him. Whereupon:
“
Father,
”
said the boy,
“
you are now old,
and scarce able to support fatigue; why take you me not with you
for once to Florence, and give me to know devout friends of God
and you, so that I, who am young and fitter for such exertion than
you, may thereafter go to Florence for our supplies at your pleasure,
and you remain here?
”

[Voice:
author
]

[
018
]
The worthy man, bethinking him that his son was now grown
up, and so habituated to the service of God as hardly to be seduced
by the things of the world, said to himself:
“
He says tell.
”
And
so, as he must needs go to Florence, he took the boy with him.
[
019
]
Where, seeing the palaces, the houses, the churches, and all matters
else with which the city abounds, and of which he had no more
recollection than if he had never seen them, the boy found all passing
strange, and questioned his father of not a few of them, what they
were and how they were named; [
020
]
his curiosity being no sooner
satisfied in one particular than he plied his father with a further
question. And so it befell that, while son and father were thus
occupied in asking and answering questions, they encountered a bevy
of damsels, fair and richly arrayed, being on their return from a
wedding; whom the young man no sooner saw, than he asked his
father what they might be.
[
021
]
“
My son,
”
answered the father,
“
fix
thy gaze on the ground, regard them not at all, for naughty things
are they.
”
[
022
]
“
Oh!
”
said the son,
“
and what is their name?
”
[
023
]
The
father, fearing to awaken some mischievous craving of concupiscence
in the young man, would not denote them truly, to wit, as women,
but said:
“
They are called goslings.
”
[
024
]
Whereupon, wonderful
to tell! the lad who had never before set eyes on any woman,
thought no more of the palaces, the oxen, the horses, the asses,
the money, or aught else that he had seen, but exclaimed:
“
Prithee, father, let me have one of those goslings.
”
[
025
]
“
Alas,
my son,
”
replied the father,
“
speak not of them; they are
naughty things.
”
[
026
]
“
Oh!
”
questioned the son;
“
but are naughty
things made like that?
”
[
027
]
“
Ay,
”
returned the father.
[
028
]
Whereupon
the son:
“
I know not,
”
he said,
“
what you say, nor why they
should be naughty things: for my part I have as yet seen nought
that seemed to me so fair and delectable. They are fairer than the
painted angels that you have so often shewn me. Oh! if you love
me, do but let us take one of these goslings up there, and I will see
that she have whereon to bill.
”
[
029
]
“
Nay,
”
said the father,
“
that will
not I. Thou knowest not whereon they bill;
”
and straightway,
being ware that nature was more potent than his art, he repented
him that he had brought the boy to Florence.

[Voice:
author
]

[
030
]
But enough of this story: 'tis time for me to cut it short, and
return to those, for whose instruction 'tis told. They say then,
some of these my censors, that I am too fond of you, young ladies,
and am at too great pains to pleasure you. Now that I am fond of
you, and am at pains to pleasure you, [
031
]
I do most frankly and fully
confess; and I ask them whether, considering only all that it means
to have had, and to have continually, before one's eyes your debonair
demeanour, your bewitching beauty and exquisite grace, and therewithal
your modest womanliness, not to speak of having known the
amorous kisses, the caressing embraces, the voluptuous comminglings,
whereof our intercourse with you, ladies most sweet, not seldom is
productive, they do verily marvel that I am fond of you, seeing that
one who was nurtured, reared, and brought up on a savage and solitary
mountain, within the narrow circuit of a cell, without other companion
than his father, had no sooner seen you than 'twas you alone
that he desired, that he demanded, that he sought with ardour?
[
032
]
Will they tear, will they lacerate me with their censures, if I,
whose body Heaven fashioned all apt for love, whose soul from
very boyhood was dedicate to you, am not insensible to the power
of the light of your eyes, to the sweetness of your honeyed words,
to the flame that is kindled by your gentle sighs, but am fond of you
and sedulous to pleasure you; you, again I bid them remember,
in whom a hermit, a rude, witless lad, liker to an animal than to a
human being, found more to delight him than in aught else that he
saw? Of a truth whoso taxes me thus must be one that, feeling,
knowing nought of the pleasure and power of natural affection, loves
you not, nor craves your love; and such an one I hold in light esteem.
[
033
]
And as for those that go about to find ground of exception in my
age, they do but shew that they ill understand that the leek, albeit
its head is white, has a green tail. But jesting apart, thus I answer
them, that never to the end of my life shall I deem it shameful to
me to pleasure those to whom Guido Cavalcanti and Dante Alighieri
in their old age, and Messer Cino da Pistoia in extreme old age,
accounted it an honour and found it a delight to minister gratification.
[
034
]
And but that 'twere a deviation from the use and wont of
discourse, I would call history to my aid, and shew it to abound
with stories of noble men of old time, who in their ripest age studied
above all things else to pleasure the ladies; whereof if they be
ignorant, go they and get them to school. [
035
]
To keep with the Muses
on Parnassus is counsel I approve; but tarry with them always we
cannot, nor they with us, nor is a man blameworthy, if, when he
happen to part from them, he find his delight in those that resemble
them. The Muses are ladies, and albeit ladies are not the peers of
the Muses, yet they have their outward semblance; for which cause,
if for no other, 'tis reasonable that I should be fond of them.
Besides which, ladies have been to me the occasion of composing
some thousand verses, but of never a verse that I made were the
Muses the occasion. [
036
]
Howbeit 'twas with their aid, 'twas under their
influence that I composed those thousand verses, and perchance they
have sometimes visited me to encourage me in my present task, humble
indeed though it be, doing honour and paying, as it were, tribute,
to the likeness which the ladies have to them; wherefore, while I
weave these stories, I stray not so far from Mount Parnassus and the
Muses as not a few perchance suppose. [
037
]
But what shall we say to
those, in whom my hunger excites such commiseration that they
bid me get me bread? Verily I know not, save this: Suppose that
in my need I were to beg bread of them, what would be their
answer? I doubt not they would say:
“
Go seek it among the
fables.
”
[
038
]
And in sooth the poets have found more bread among their
fables than many rich men among their treasures. And many that
have gone after fables have crowned their days with splendour, while,
on the other hand, not a few, in the endeavour to get them more
bread than they needed, have perished miserably. But why waste
more words on them? Let them send me packing, when I ask
bread of them; not that, thank God, I have yet need of it, and
should I ever come to be in need of it, I know, like the Apostle,
how to abound and to be in want, and so am minded to be beholden
to none but myself. [
039
]
As for those who say that these matters fell out
otherwise than as I relate them, I should account it no small favour,
if they would produce the originals, and should what I write not
accord with them, I would acknowledge the justice of their censure,
and study to amend my ways; but, until better evidence is forthcoming
than their words, I shall adhere to my own opinion without
seeking to deprive them of theirs, and give them tit for tat. [
040
]
And
being minded that for this while this answer suffice, I say that with
God and you, in whom I trust, most gentle ladies, to aid and protect
me, and patience for my stay, I shall go forward with my work,
turning my back on this tempest, however it may rage; for I see
not that I can fare worse than the fine dust, which the blast of the
whirlwind either leaves where it lies, or bears aloft, not seldom over
the heads of men, over the crowns of kings, of emperors, and sometimes
suffers to settle on the roofs of lofty palaces, and the summits
of the tallest towers, whence if it fall, it cannot sink lower than the
level from which it was raised. [
041
]
And if I ever devoted myself and
all my powers to minister in any wise to your gratification, I am
now minded more than ever so to do, because I know that there is
nought that any can justly say in regard thereof, but that I, and
others who love you, follow the promptings of nature, whose laws
whoso would withstand, has need of powers pre-eminent, and, even
so, will oft-times labour not merely in vain but to his own most
grievous disadvantage. [
042
]
Such powers I own that I neither have, nor,
to such end, desire to have; and had I them, I would rather leave
them to another than use them myself. Wherefore let my detractors
hold their peace, and if they cannot get heat, why, let them shiver
their life away; and, while they remain addicted to their delights,
or rather corrupt tastes, let them leave me to follow my own bent
during the brief life that is accorded us. [
043
]
But this has been a long
digression, fair ladies, and 'tis time to retrace our steps to the point
where we deviated, and continue in the course on which we started.

[Voice:
author
]

[
044
]
The sun had chased every star from the sky, and lifted the dank
murk of night from the earth, when, Filostrato being risen, and
having roused all his company, they hied them to the fair garden,
and there fell to disporting themselves: the time for breakfast being
come, they took it where they had supped on the preceding evening,
[
045
]
and after they had slept they rose, when the sun was in his zenith,
and seated themselves in their wonted manner by the beautiful
fountain; where Fiammetta, being bidden by Filostrato to lead off
the story-telling, awaited no second command, but debonairly thus
began.